


Touch-Starved

by RazzleMyDazzle



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Everyone Needs A Hug, F/M, LITERALLY, Lance (Voltron) Angst, Lance (Voltron)-centric, M/M, Multi, Mutual Pining, Pining, Touch-Starved, Vent Writing, basically idk what ships yet, but also dont hug lance, canon divergence from the end of season 5, das bad, lance harem without being a harem, more tags to be added prolly, up to season 5 canon, whoever gave the fandom freedom to write fic did a bad
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-19
Updated: 2018-08-13
Packaged: 2019-05-09 02:57:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14707814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RazzleMyDazzle/pseuds/RazzleMyDazzle
Summary: It was only when Lance was forced to distance himself for the safety of his friends, that he realised how much they cared.Lance never imagined that his friends would reach out to him the moment they couldn't, that they would attempt to help him when it was the most dangerous for them.How were you supposed to help someone who could kill you with one touch?





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> Aight lads, welcome to this week's episode of *yes I would like to make Lance happy but after a clusterfuck of Langst*.
> 
> I'm being really edgey and using writing angst as a coping mechanism, and as Lance is my favourite character in anything ever, unfortunately he's my angst victim.
> 
> I tried to be mega vague about the content because I want it to be a total surprise and really hit people in the face, but if you squint, I've dropped mega hints so if you really wanted to figure it out the go crazy :D
> 
> Also I don't have any set ships for this yet. I am a multishipper (so no ship discourse here please!) and tbh most of my ships involve Lance (shocker). I didn't go into this with a ship in mind because I just wanted the angst, and if it is going to be a ship fic, I want it to happen naturally, and this is totally freeform. As in I'm 100% winging it as I go along. Wild. BUT this does mean I'm open to suggestions! For all Lance-related ships! So feel free to hmu if y'all have a hankering for anything specific - then prepare for me to totally butcher it for my angsty needs :)

Living in constant competition was difficult, especially if you were the only one participating in said competition. Regardless, if one isn't appreciated as much as some others, they're liable to become desperate for attention, and do anything to try and one up someone else - petty, of course, but just to create a small piece of peace, it was worth it.  
Lance McClain had lived his life competing with everyone around him. He was a small part of a large family, a family that seemed to be constantly moving forwards, but Lance felt left behind. He always had felt that way, it just seemed to him that no matter how hard he tried, he could never excel past his siblings.  
And then he got accepted into the Galaxy Garrison, something none of his family had ever done before and he was elated. His entire childhood he felt he had to compete for attention, as irritating it was to some others, it was technically all he knew.  
So when Lance successfully completed harsh levels of training in succession of eachother with nary a hit, he was ecstatic. Surely Keith hadn't succeeded in doing that, so lance would revel in his small victory, even if he was the only one there to experience it. Whoo! A victory snack was in order, and he could tell Hunk all about how he's really getting the hang of switching between a gun and a sword with his bayard. He had invited Hunk with him to train originally, but the other had declined him, stating that Coran had got his hands on some new ingredients and Hunk wanted to bake something out of them - he promised Lance the first try. So Lance finished up training alone.

Being alone was a strange thing. Some people craved it, wanted nothing more than to be alone, but others would rather exert themselves into as many social situations as possible. But being alone was strange, with only yourself as company, your thoughts. Thoughts were pretty wild; voiceless words that never made it past a pair of lips. Voiceless words with no place to go, only echoing around and around someone's mind, to the beat of the pulse running through their veins and causing said thoughts to manifest. The Blue - no, Red - Paladin despised being alone, not ever really knowing what alone time was when growing up, and his thoughts weren't always pleasant. He could think of as many things as possible but somehow it would loop right back round to his greatest fears. He tried not to feel sorry for himself; that was pitiful, and he was a Paladin for Christ sake. He had managed far more than some - but he still felt somewhat invalid in comparison to his companions.  
The lights around the halls had been dimmed slightly, making the walk towards the kitchen rather eerie, but it was also mildly comforting. Dim lights were less headache inducing, and reminded Lance of Keith. He had only been in Keith's room once, but the lights had definitely been less intense there; maybe it was a Galra thing. Either way, the darkened corridors made the place feel less like a palace, and more like a bunker. Lance wasn't sure whether that made him feel safer or not, since bunkers were obviously an excellent security measure, but for them to be in use meant that something awful had to have been happening. Back on earth, bunkers were used during wars, or in anticipation for nukes (To be extreme, but no less incorrect), and while the overall arc of the galactic war had resided somewhat - the palace was still a bunker. There was still more to come. Or maybe there was no foreshadowing implemented whatsoever, and the lights were dimmed for Lotor's sake, as the man was half Galra. Maybe they had sensitive eyes? Lance chuckled softly at himself as he drew closer to the kitchen, able to smell Hunks baking from around the corner.

Laughter resounded from the room, and Lance smiled softly. The paladins had gone through a lot recently, so hearing them have fun was something that warmed him inside.  
Even if he wasn't the one to make them laugh, but that was Okay. There were times he felt that was all he was good for, making the others laugh, cracking jokes in the face of danger, so perhaps even the danger would crack a chuckle. They were laughing without him, but that was Okay. The kitchen door slid open, and he stepped inside, removing his helmet and shaking out his hair, running a hand through it to strategically mess it up.  
Helmet hair was the worst.

Everyone was there, minus Keith obviously, but he was rarely around nowadays. They were seemingly enjoying a story that Lotor was telling about a strange, antlered colony he had once attempted to stabilize, but couldn't stand their insufferable habit of talking in rhyme. From what Lance caught, it was a funny story. But something hurt a little. When he had a story, he waited until everyone was willing to listen- until everyone was present. Some could see it as an attention hog, he saw it as ensuring everyone was involved. Had they not waited for him? Did they forget him? Or did they simply not want him there?  
_No, Lance, Don't be silly. They probably just thought it was better to let me train in peace. See, Hunk baked those cookies and they're untouched - he promised you the first one and he intends on keeping that promise. There's no big deal here._  
And yet he felt empty.  
Yeah, Thoughts were pretty strange, and dangerous to get lost in. So long as he continued to paddle in his thoughts- there was no risk of drowning in them.

Lance didn't interrupt the story, Lotor seemed to enjoy telling it, and the others enjoyed hearing it. However, duty waited for no story end, and the castle alarms were blaring, pulling everyone out of their stupors.  
Lance managed to slip out before anyone noticed, making his way to the castle deck first.  
The alarms turned out to be a distress call, from a small planet of which had been almost unheard of. It definitely hadn't been a major part of the war, at least, and so had never had a presence on the Princess’ radar.  
“Pidge and Lance- I would like you two to head to the planet first, and report back to us should you need the rest of us for backup.”

“With all due respect, princess, I think we should group up and explore the planet together. We don't know what's on it.”

Shiro frowned, crossing his arms as he rebutted Allura’s idea. She only sighed in response. Tensions had been high on the ship recently, and everyone could feel it. Their bonds were slowly fraying, and it seemed like everyone had different ways of attempting to mend them. Such mixture of different solutions could only make the bonds stronger than before, or blow up in their faces and destroy them completely.

“Shiro, I know you're the leader,” Lance started, “but I have to agree with Allura. Because we don't know what's on that planet, it would be better for a smaller group to infiltrate undetected, to gauge how uh, distressing the distress call is.”

Shiro fell silent, and for a moment Lance was worried that he was going to get reprimanded for butting in again. He was only trying to diffuse the situation, perhaps he should have gone with a joke instead?

“Lance is right. We'll need Pidge on land incase of an on-spot rescue mission, as she is most skilled in infiltration. And Lance shall accompany her, as he has proven himself an excellent scout as of late. I feel they will make the best team.”

Lance swelled with pride upon receiving praise from the princess. Once upon a time, when he had been crushing on her _big,_ the praise would have resulted in him squealing into a pillow for hours on end. Now, all he could do was shower her with the utmost respect. They were comrades now, and more importantly, she believed he was right for the job.  
He wasn't about to let her down.

It was decided that they'd take the green lion down, making use of its implemented cloaking device. Lance was already suited, so opted to wait by Green for Pidge to arrive. It took a few more moments, and Lance began to get worried before Pidge entered the hangars, frowning in concern.

“Hey, what's up, buttercup? Why the long face?”

Pidge shifted where she stood, rolling her helmet in her hands.

“I’m just…” She sighed, “I don't have a good feeling about this. We've never even _heard_ of this planet before! We don't know the inhabitants, or even what the call was over and I just - I have this...this gut feeling that something really bad is going to happen…”

Lance’s brows furrowed as he reached out to place a hand on her shoulder, concerned expression melting into a small, comforting smile, in which is eyes shone ever so slightly with a familial warmth.

“That's why we're doing this. We're paladins, right? We gotta protect the masses. But more importantly, we gotta protect eachother. Have eachothers backs! We're team mates; more than that, we're family. If you don't feel good about this, then we'll go in with extra caution. We can't just not go, but I'm not going to let you feel like you're alone in this, alright?”

She hesitated, before nodding affirmative, managing a small smile of her own.

“Yeah, alright. I'll watch your back and you'll watch mine. Thanks, Lance.”

He beamed down at her, raising a fist.

“Team Lidge?”

Pidge rolled her eyes and snorted.

“You stole that from Hunk.”

Lance said nothing but wiggled his eyebrows, refusing to put the fist down. Releasing an overdramatic sigh, Pidge raised her fist to meet with Lance's.

“Alright. Team Lidge, I guess.”

“That's the mildly dubious spirit!”

* * *

The planet seemed abandoned. It gave off the same vibe as a dystopian earthen future, or a _plants versus zombies_ battle ground, where the plants had reclaimed the scenes and the zombies had consumed every possible living thing - and then spontaneously combusted, destroying what ever was left of the architecture.  
Woven domes, erect beneath a canopy of trees adorned with deep, plum leaves (many of which had fallen to cover the ground, hiding the ground from view), were the only signs of anything having once lived there. Much like coiled basketry, they supplied what would have been living spaces, vacant holes implemented for doorways and windows. Upon running his fingers over one, Lance found that the material, though mossy, was stone, manipulated to weave in and out of eachother to create a sturdy set of edifices that has long since been someone's home. It was reminiscent of the Olkari- perhaps the previous residents had been a cousin race? The constructions must have stood strong once, but now with weeds rising from the dirt, lacing in and through the thick, conjoined laces of stone, causing the foundation of the dome to crack, which had spread up the semi-spherical arrangement. Some of the tops of the domes had started to crumble inwards, bits of stone rubble catching under the paladins feet as they cautiously explored the area, reminding Lance of how he used to compete with his brother in a game they dubbed _Lego Chicken_ , the goal of which had been to test who could walk across scattered Lego bricks the longest without chickening out. Lance had the willpower of a bird scavenging through a well netted bird feeder. Or maybe he was just stubborn. Regardless, he held the high score within his family, a feat which had his nieces and nephews looking up to him like some ethereal being.  
It was one hell of an ego boost.

“This was where the distress call came from...but there's nothing. Just some old ruins. Not a single person or alien in sight.”

Pidge held her Bayard close, as if it were a lifeline.

“It doesn't feel right…”

“We'll look around a little more.”

He re-adjusted his grip on his gun, perspiration pooling at his temples. Lance's gut was flipping more than the mice during a sugar rush and the palpitations in his chest weren't helping to settle it any.

“If we don't find anything else, then we'll double back and inform-”

His words caught in his throat, and his arm flew out to stop Pidge walking, standing defensively beside her.  
Their footsteps had been synchronised; it entertained Lance to step at the same time as whoever he was walking with, so it was ingrained within him to do so, sometimes without him having to think about it. He could have sworn he heard something outside of their co-occurring leaf crunching.

Pidge knew better than to ask, allowing herself to fall silent as Lance glanced around, eyes flitting from one spot to another, spying for any sort if inconsistency. The Green Paladin shifted so her back was to his, making minimal noise, so she could catch his blind spots- obviously being behind him. Lance may have been a sharp shooter, but even he didn't have eyes in the back of his head.

Sudden movement from the left - a few leaves fluttered down from the concealed branches above. Lance knew full well there was no breeze, no signs of wind on this planet.  
_They weren't alone._

“Lance…”

Pidge’s voice was hushed, panicked. She had seen something, too.

“We have to go…”

There was a quiet rustle - who ever had accompanied them was on the move.

_”Now!”_

The moment they moved from their static defence poses, the shots started. Glowing and purple and distinguishable enough to scream _Galra_ at the pair, followed closely by _trap._  
Their coms started to buzz in their ears, only coming through as noise, their communication lines had been compromised and no information could be sent or received. The white noise was counteracted by the wind as they swept through the forestry, racing for the safety of the green lion. Lance's legs trembled with the intensity of his steps, and though he was faster than Pidge, he opted to remain behind her. They were being chased, the shots would come from behind, and Lance wanted to put himself between Pidge and the shots, in an attempt to keep her safe.

It was a sound plan - until a hooded figure jumped out in front of them, taking a shot. Lance screamed out as he tried to push Pidge out of the way, but it was like a race against light, quite literally. And he lost.  
The bullet hit Pidge square in the stomach and Lance came up behind her within the same moment, scooping her up without missing a beat.  
He could hear her gasping for breath, sounding mostly winded as the armour protected her, but Lance would not forgo the potential for heavy bruising (His suspicions only strengthened in the way Pidge dry heaved in his arms). 

“You're going to be okay. We're going to get back to Green and then back to the others - team Lidge, right?”

He spoke through pants, but was desperate to reassure Pidge in anyway he could. She nodded in response, managing to choke out a small, “T-team Lidge,” and - _Oh god is that blood?_  
Lance panicked upon seeing the crimson liquid pool in the corner of her mouth, and tried to shift her in his arms so she was more upright. He was distracted, to say the least. Between juggling Pidge in the arms, only made more awkward with the armour, and attempting to dodge bullets, he missed the slightly larger pile of leaves ahead. Had he been in more of a position to examine it, he would have been able to analyse that a larger pile made for a potential trap. The _snap_ was heard before it was felt, and Lance's legs collapsed beneath him, the two paladins grunting in their varying levels of pain as the ground met them harshly, unforgivingly hard.

In their moment of catastrophic respite, the pain hit faster than a roadrunner fleeing from a coyote. It burned a few inches above his ankle, and only served to spread from their in a thick, suffocating heat that had him choking for a breath he couldn't take. When his eyes, glassy with salted tears, finally glanced down to the cause, he released a whine of anguish.  
Who knew there would be bear traps in space?

Or rather, something akin to a bear trap, but much larger and with a release that seemed far more convoluted, clearly intended for a creature much more monumental than a bear. Pidge had already crawled to his side, one hand sported on her stomach, other dancing over the release.

“I-I can't figure it out, th-there’s too many locks I don't-!”

“Pidge, you have to go!”

“No! I'm not leaving you!”

Her small, deft hands wrapped around the jaws of the trap as she tried to physically pry it apart. Blood started to seep through her gloves in her vain struggle that yielded no results.

“Pidge!”

“W-we can't be team Lidge if we're...if we're missing a member!”

There was so much Blood, soaking both of their uniforms, Lance's leg barely even distinguishable, having been entirely mangled in the accident. Lance wrapped his hands around Pidge’s wrists, weakly striving to prevent further damage coming unto Pidge. He spoke through gritted teeth, tone fluctuating immensely in an effort to keep his voice steady.

“Unless you're gonna give me the chop, I-I’m not going anywhere…”

Pidge seemed to heavily consider that as an option, a hand hovering over her Bayard, hair sticking to her face with an amalgamation of sweat, blood, and tears, the holy trinity, if you will.

“I-I-!”

She shook her head, unwilling to leave.

“Pidge, we don't have time for this! You're already hurt and I'm not moving anywhere fast. Go. You can come back for me, it's okay.”

She couldn't wipe her face through her helmet, but she nodded quickly, resembling a bobble head.

“I'll come back. I-I promise!”

“I trust you. Hey…”

He raised a weak fist, entire arm trembling with the effort.

“T-team Lidge?”

A small laugh escaped her lips, though it seemed a mixture of shock and disbelief. Despite that, she raised her fist to meet his. The tiny crack in her voice gave her away, however.

“Team Lidge.”

Lance's hands dropped to his Bayard as he focused on forming his gun, barely able to lift it higher than his hip.

“Get outta here, gremlin. I got your back.”

The small Paladin gave a puny smile, though transparent. It was her attempt of appeasing Lance one last time, before hightailing it back to Green, ignoring the burning of her stomach in favour of getting help for Lance. Behind her, she could hear the discernable blasting from Lance's gun, with echoing bursts from the hooded Galra.

After a few moments, she couldn't hear Lance's anymore. Pidge opted to believe she had simply run too far away to hear them, though she knew that wasn't the case.  
The Galran shots had started chasing her feet, after all. It was only when she launched herself into the safety of the confines of the lions cockpit, did she even allow herself to breath, gasping for air that had been robbed from her with her initial hit. Heart pounding like a steamhammer, she reconnected the communication to the castle.  
Immediately, an influx of concerns hammered against her ears.

“I-It’s Lance...h-he told me to leave him - it was a trap! He got hurt I couldn't help him I…”

The others fell silent, Pidge’s desperate gasps for air between choked sobs filling the void.


	2. Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team plan on finding and bringing back their sharpshooter as soon as humanely (alien-ly?) Possible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello I love you all???  
> I did not expect this to be so well received oh my gosh!!! I'm so glad you're all enjoying It :D  
> Also I'm sorry if it seems like I'm drawing the big reveal out, except I'm not that sorry because I'm still figuring out how to fully plan it so its written like, exactly how I want it to be, if that makes sense?  
> Anyways all of your lovely comments had me so excited to write more, so I busted out another chapter!!!

When Pidge returned to the castle, she was inconsolable. No longer crying, but a force to be reckoned with, and absolutely not going down without a fight. She almost didn't allow the others to usher her into a pod, determined to plan a rescue mission then and there. It was only when Hunk reasoned with her, that she finally relented.

“Pidge, you're going to be the key member of the team in this mission. You're the only one who's been down there! And we can't risk losing you, too.”

“I'm going to be fine. I promised Lance I'd-”

“Hey, listen to me.”

Hunk placed a hand on her shoulder, the same way Lance had done only hours previously.

“Send me all the data you collected, and I'll start mapping up while you're in the pod. By the time you come out, I'll have it all set up for you to take over, okay?”

Her shoulders slumped, but she nodded, managing to transfer the data over, before Coran ushered her into a pod. Hunk wanted to be there for when she was released, but he'd promised her like she'd promised Lance; none of them were about to break their promises.

Hunk retreated to the deck, where Allura, Shiro, and Lotor remained. If it weren't for his promise to Pidge, he would have eloped the scene immediately. It was like walking into a room with your parents arguing; it's a terrifying exposure, seeing the two you would usually associate with comfort and love (or should, rather, as that obviously isn't always the case), at each others throats. Especially when they were at each others throats in every way _apart_ from literally.  
Shiro and Allura had come to adopt the titles of space parents through their cosmic endeavours, and the pressure of decisions often fell to them. It appeared the stress of those decisions were starting to become too much water for one glass to hold, and their arms were trembling under the weight of it.

“If we had gone in as a team, this would not have happened and you know that!”

“Shiro, I am aware of the mistake my decision made and I am already guilty enough - you do not need to make matters worse!”

Lotor appeared entirely lost, and Hunk’s heart went out to the half breed. The man had been tossed into their Paladin discourse without even so much as a manual. Though, a bomb defusal manual may have been more appropriate in this case. He watched as their spiteful banter flew back and forth, a _piggy in the middle_ scenario if ever there were one. As soon as Lotor's eyes found Hunk, he seemed to perk up in relief, taking a few long strides to stand at his side.

“Hunk. How is the small one?”

“Pidge - and she's good. Snug in a pod like a pea.”

“A...pea?”

Lotor's brows furrowed as he pouted in confusion.

“Earth food. H-Have they been arguing long…?”

Hunk watched as Lotor lifted his thumb and forefinger to massage the bridge of his nose, evidently exhausted.

“Since you left. The princess already blamed herself, and Shiro is not helping matters. I attempted to mediate, but neither party seemed willing to listen.”

He nodded in understanding. Shiro had been at odds with many of them recently, and it was hitting Allura especially hard, considering they had the space parents status, they collectively formed the foundation of their team. They held the team on their shoulders, but now they were swaying, and Hunk feared that soon enough they wouldn't be able to support them at all.  
If Lance were there - He would also attempt to negate the arguing. And if he failed to do that, then he would distract the others at least, so they wouldn't have to be in the middle of it.  
Lance seemed to always be aware of how to make a situation lighter, even in the heaviest of times.

“Alright well, I should get to coordinating these coordinates so we can try and find Lance, before mom and dad blow a gasket.”

“Mom and...dad?”

Lotor's eyebrow quirked up as he questioned Hunk’s labelling.

“Yeah! Allura is space mom, and Shiro is space dad. They're the uh, space parents. In space…”

He trailed off, sitting down at his computer to avoid having to awkwardly salvage his poor attempt at an explanation. Hunk could see Lotor glance between the aforementioned duo, before his shoulders heaved and he sat down beside Hunk.

“I must say, if that is what having parents is like...I surely haven't been missing out.”

_Alright Hunk, don't even cry at how heartbreaking_ that _is, we have enough to worry about. Like your best friend in a healing pod who will probably gut you like a fish and then apologise for it afterwards if we don't get this done. Or your other best friend who is god knows where having god knows what done to him._

His hands flew over the holographic keyboard as he downloaded all of Pidge’s data, cycling through the information to create a map. The points of interest were where the green lion had been stationed, where they had originally been ambushed, and where Lance had gotten caught. The points seemed to create a triangle in shape, with the longest points being the distance between the lion and the ambush. Hunk guessed that had to be approximately two miles, maybe three at a stretch (though it was hard to gauge when aliens didn't exactly utilise metric or imperial measuring systems). The final point, Lance's capture point, indicated that they had made it two thirds of the way back to the lion. Hunk’s heart clenched - they had been so close.

“I-I don't even know where to start with this…”

Lotor shuffled closer to the monitor, fiddling with a strand of his silk hair as his face contorted concentration, his otherwise alabaster skin showcasing small stress creases he obviously usually did well to hide.

“See here,” Lotor traced the route between the ambush and Lance getting caught with his finger, “They were chased this way. And they were being attacked from all sides - the enemy were attempting to herd Lance and Pidge in this direction, away from their route to the lion, towards their traps.”

Hunk nodded in agreement, adding to the theory, “And if they had intended on taking hurt hostages, they wouldn't want to give themselves too long a distance to carry dead weight.”

“The traps that Pidge described- they're awfully cumbersome. If it is the type I am thinking of, it is far quicker to strip the piece of parts until it comes loose than to bother with the latches.”

“Which means that if they do in fact, have a base, it wouldn't make sense to be beyond say, a mile radius from the point of the trap?”

“What's a mile?”

Hunk added some commands into the computer, and a ring of his estimated distance appeared around Lance's capture point. Lotor smiled in return, tiny canines flashing.

“Yes, that seems feasible. There is your starting point. Good work, Hunk.”

He beamed up at him, before it faltered a little. They had a starting point, but would they get there in time? Lance was already hurt, badly, were They just going to let Lance's wound fester and infect? Or would they heal it? Would Lance need to have it amputated? That would kill him, and Hunk could only hope it wouldn't come to that.

“It is...quieter, without him around.”

Lotor's tone was hushed, almost mournful; Hunk could guess that maybe he cared that Lance was gone. He spoke as if he hadn't intended on anyone go hear him, but being in such close proximity with another, that plan had fallen through.

“We're going to get him back. Pidge promised and...I promised him first taste of those cookies.”

“Ah. That would be why you didn't share them out.”

He nodded, and looked up as Allura approached them. Hunk caught the doors sliding shut out of the corner of his eye, indicating Shiro had left.

“Have you found anything with the information Pidge collected, Hunk?”

“Yeah! Lotor and I found an appropriate search area. If Lance is being kept anywhere, it would make sense to be within these coordinates.”

He gestured to the previously marked zone.

“Wonderful work, you two!” Allura smiled at the pair, but it was clearly worn. She was exhausted, and constantly fighting with who was previously her second in command.

“I...I feel like I should apologise.”

“Allura…”

“No, it was my call to send only Lance and Pidge in, and they both got hurt on my account. I know the three of you are close - and I apologise for the mistake my judgement made.”

Her head was bowed, strands of hair falling out from her bun and dancing against her bronze features. Lotor stood, reproachful, having been disregarded during her and Shiro's arguing, but painfully aware that she was stretched thin and could only focus on one thing at a time.

“Princess, you could not have predicted what was to happen. We all - well, most of us, agreed that that was the right decision. Including the red Paladin himself.”

“Yeah Allura, don't blame yourself. None of us even so much as batted an eye towards the plan. If you're at fault, then so are the rest of us. But...but It's happened now, and all we can do is hope Lance is okay by the time we find him.”

The woman appeared taken aback by their unwavering support, having been used to having to argue for her point to be heard.

“And you know Lance wouldn't let you feel sorry for yourself. He'd slide on in with his smooth one liners, because we all know for a fact he prefers smile creases over brow wrinkles. They're the only facial blemishes he accepts!”

Allura took a deep breath and stood straight, dusting off her uniform, despite the fact it appeared already immaculate.

“Hunk - you're absolutely right. Lance has been a pillar for us all to lean on - we are not about to crumble simply because he is out of commission. It's about time we made the effort to give back to him - starting with this rescue mission.”

In that moment, the princess radiated confidence and authority; the true picture of a lioness who would fight the universe to protect her cubs.  
Hunk knew Lance would have loved to see her like that again, that he would have grinned and given her a cheesy, space related pick up line that she would have rolled her eyes at, only to titter and smile warmly when she thought no one was looking. And Lance would have smiled, a real smile where the corners of his lips turned upwards and his lips parted just enough to show teeth. Hunk missed seeing that. Recently, his smiles seemed too wide, too forced, and he hadn't had time to properly check in on his friend - was Lance really doing okay?  
What if it was too late to find out?  
Hunk shook his head, reaching up to tighten his headband (which acted mostly as a distraction, something for his hands to do).  
He wouldn't let it be too late.

* * *

It was approximately half a varga later, When Pidge entered the castle bridge, Coran following close behind.

“A slippery little lass! I was barely able to get her to eat some food goo before she zipped right out of the sleeping chamber!”

The map that Hunk had constructed, with Lotor's help, had been projected across the bridge, for everyone's convenience. Pidge stood beside Hunk as she examined the map, nodding along to the added notes beside it.

“Alright. Scout for potential base spots, find Lance, take him home.”

“That's about the gist of it. But we'll have to decide who goes in and who hangs behind as backup.”

“Well I'm going in for sure. I promised Lance.”

The group (bar Shiro, who was still absent) nodded, agreeing with the sentiment.

“I doubt we'll need voltron, as they appear to be ground-based. If you take Hunk with you, Shiro and I can have your backs, while Lotor remains on ship with-”

“Actually princess, if I might interject. I should like to accompany Pidge in this rescue mission.”

The remaining few glanced towards Lotor, unsure as to why he would volunteer. It wasn't as though he hadn't proven himself trustworthy, just that he hadn't exactly shown interest in any of the paladins beyond Allura. Though perhaps, he has been keeping his distance for fear of being outcasted.  
Perhaps, this was his attempt of bridging the gap between himself and the team.

“I think it would be appropriate for a Galra to be in the front lines of this mission, in case of security measures. Plus, Hunk is long ranged, so would suffice more as a backing class. Princess, your hearing is above any of ours, so I believe you and Hunk would make the better team, if I may be so bold to say.”

A silence swept across the room, though there were no objections. He made some perfectly valid points, the only problem was-

“But what about Shiro? Is he gonna stay on the ship?”

“We don't have time to wait around for him!” Pidge exclaimed, throwing her hands up, a habit she seemed to have picked up from Lance, “we don't know what's happening to Lance and I'm not going to wait for him to come around and apologise! I'm sorry, but I can't make Lance wait for that.”

“I shall keep an eye on him,” Coran piped up, “He probably just needs to relieve some stress. I'll talk to him about personalizing training simulations- I trust you four to have this, but there are always members of the coalition on hand should you need more, well, hands!”

“Alright, Coran. Keep a communication device on you, should we need your assistance.”

He nodded, and made his exit.  
And the _Lance Rescue Squad_ , as Hunk had so brilliantly dubbed them, was a go.

* * *

Pidge had installed a temporary camouflage onto the blue lion, it would only be used once before expiring, so that Allura and Hunk could follow herself and Lotor undetected. The plan was for the green lion to touch down, and for Team A to search the designated area. A few moments later, team B would touch down in Blue, and remain there camouflaged to watch in such a case that Pidge and Lotor are followed. They had all been hooked up to makeshift panic alarms, that would send a signal to the other three, indicating that they were in immediate danger; they wanted to use their coms as little as possible.

And everything was going according to plan, so much so, that Pidge was starting to get nervous.

“Pidge.”

Lotor's voice broke the silence as they started walking around the outer edge of the perimeter of their search area. She hummed on acknowledgement, but gave no indication of a wanted conversation.

“I apologise for volunteering myself. I know this would have been more enjoyable for you with-”

“It's a _rescue mission_. It's not supposed to be enjoyable.”

“Yes, I understand. My wording was rather poor.”

He frowned, dejected, and Pidge released a quiet groan. _He looks like a sad puppy..._ Besides - Lance would never leave someone hanging.

“Why did you come with? I didn't think you'd stop making goo-goo eyes at Allura long enough to think about us little people.”

A scoff emitted from the Galran emperor, and he shuffled some of the leaves on the ground around with his foot, as if scouring for secret hatches.

“Lance...he seems to be more necessary than we all appreciate.”

“Well yeah? Obviously. He's like...like the glue! He's a bit of all of us and that's why he just _fits.”_

“A...jack of all trades, I believe the saying is?”

“What? No way. That makes him sound mediocre. He's way more than that!”

Lotor's head bobbed in understanding, and if he hadn't been wearing his helmet, Pidge could imagine his hair swaying with the movement of his head. It half made her regret chopping her own locks but, she had grown rather attached to her androgeny.

“May I inquire as to something?”

“Huh? Yeah, sure.”

She spoke as she peered around several trees, as if hoping to find Lance behind one of them.

“Do you ever tell him? Everything you've just told me - Have you ever told him?”

The smaller of the two bristled, as she racked her brain. She liked to pride herself in having an impeccable memory, and yet she couldn't ever remember actually telling Lance how much he meant to them.

“Well...no? But he's so self-assured, I mean, he knows, right?”

Her footsteps came to a halt, and she peered up a Lotor through her lashes, eyes swimming behind a layer of concern.

“R-right.. .?”

Did Lance actually know how much he meant to them? Did he know how much the rest of the team really loved him? What if he didn't?  
_What if he didn't?_  
What if He didn't know, and he was alone, hurting, maybe even dying?

“Pidge, behind you!”

Behind Pidge, was a tree. A tree that was a lot larger than most of the others, but not enough to be overly noticeable. The trunk was encompassed by a purple glow, as a neon light outlined the square of a door. The square slid around revealing an opening, and a cloaked Galra had stepped out, taken aback by the appearance of the duo. They acted quickly, Pidge’s leg extending to forcibly connect with the Galra’s gut causing the figure to double over and sink to her level, before she dealt a wicked blow to his head with her bayard. Meanwhile Lotor's sword sailed passed them both, wedging up against the tree entrance to prevent the door from closing on them and denying them entrance. 

Pidge wordlessly sent their coordinates to Hunk and Allura, sharing their discovery of the base; apparently cliché and underground. Lotor reclaimed his sword, holding the door open. The inside of the trunk acted as an elevator, which would take them lower and into unknown, un-mapped territory. It would be a tight squeeze for the pair, but definitely manageable. Lotor gracefully tilted his head towards the inside of the trunk.

“After you.”

Pidge siddled in, flattening herself against the back, as Lotor stepped in afterwards. The door slid shut behind them moments later, and there was a shaky jerk of the floor beneath them as the confined room, if it could even be called that, descended deeper into the unknown, closer to uncertainty, but hopefully, closer to Lance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay I'm sorry if I'm portraying shiro to be kinds dicky? That will be fixed in later chapters, I'm just trying to get a feel for what I wanna do with him tbh.  
> Also with my prompt, I would not be surprised if this turned out to be quite Lancelot heavy - I'm not saying it will!!! But it'll make sense when y'all know what's up!
> 
> So these chapters are hitting about 3000-ish words. I mean it's definitely a starting point but I want to try and make longer chapters I think? Idk we'll see, updates are gonna be a little sparodic while I figure out some plot points and all that jazz anyways!!!
> 
> But man I hope you all enjoyed that, even though Lance wasn't exactly *in* the chapter, I tried to make him a core subject for most of it regardless. Y'all are awesome!!!


	3. Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Just...l-leave me…”
> 
> “We're gonna get you outta here, just like I promised, okay?”
> 
> “Pidge, please…”
> 
> _“Don't touch me!”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Skadoosh

He swore he could still feel his foot. A strange tingling sensation, but surely he wasn't imagining the way his ankle clicked when he pointed his toes outwards and upwards, a habit that Hunk reprimanded him for on the daily.  
Or maybe, Lance just didn't want to acknowledge the hindrance that had arisen. The poor Paladin had been shot in the shoulder in the skirmish in the woods, And passed out from the burning pain soon afterwards. When he woke, Lance assumed he'd been blindfolded, as he could no longer see. He could hear shuffling around him, graceful footsteps of his captors, and the clinking of something- he would guess bottles maybe, they sounded like glass, though he could be wrong. His leg, his left one, felt a considerable amount lighter. Lance could only hope it was owing to the trap having been removed, and that the extractions stopped there.  
He wouldn't be any use as a one legged paladin.

Of course, beyond the possibly phantom feeling of his foot, his leg was still in an immense amount of pain that kept dragging him back into the depths of unconsciousness, wave after wave of searing discomfort crashing into him and focusing solely on a point just below his knee. And maybe he was dizzy, disoriented, but he had no way of measuring that when he had no sight, nor the ability to move freely. Lance couldn't tell if he was standing or sitting, but he could gauge that he was somehow bound to something. It was mildly dysphoric to slip in and out of the shallows of waking and sleeping, to not know which was was up or down or left or right. He didn't know how long it had been, or even what his captors were hoping to achieve. Maybe he slept through their major conversations, but in his waking moments he caught snippets of conversation.

They spoke of the other paladins, highlighting their human biology. Highlighting especially, what caused a human to become sick, or suffer any sort of reaction to toxins, or allergies. Lance found it difficult to follow in his lethargy, only added by the fact that biology wasn't exactly his forté (He had always been more of a physics guy). A lot of the words they were saying were obviously human words that they'd never come across before, so opening their mouths was often followed by a conversation of butchered human medical terms, of which Lance couldn't make head or tail of. Had lance been coherent, he would have likely made a tumblr-esque quote pertaining to their lack of effort in pronouncing his earth terms, and how that was rather offensive, and borderline racist. In their defense though, it's not as if every single one of us can pronounce every medical related word either. Antibiotics are effectively, a completely separate language to English (or whatever language people on earth happen to speak, the point remains relevant).

And why were these Galra even talking about anaphylaxis? Wild.

* * *

The place was strangely unguarded, all things considered. Perhaps those who resided in the base assumed their location was guard enough? Pidge scoffed at the thought, that would have been far too convenient. And a scapegoat for the writer, but that's not how we work in this house. Well, kinda.

Lotor's voice was hushed, And lacked the echo that empty spaces usually provided, leaving Pidge uneasy.

“I would wager a small group works here, and all their security is going towards the red Paladin.”

“Lance. His name is - You _can_ use our names, y'know.”

He returned her snark with a non-commital hum, before pointing at the fork of halls coming ahead of them.

“Left or right?”

There was no time for a response, as a dull lull of voices approaching from the left hall met their ears. The duo ducked into the right for cover, eavesdropping intently.

“This process would have been far easier with the small one.”

“Beggars can't be choosers.”

“That may be so, but the red paladin’s body almost rejected the allergin. We had to make an impromptu solution of that and the anti - which we could have kept as a bargaining token. Now there's nothing to prevent the other paladins from completely obliterating us - our upper hand is lost.”

“Our upper hand remains with the intended use of the solution - they'll come for their comrade, that was always the plan.”

Pidge shot a look towards Lotor, both panicked and frazzled, neither of which Lotor knew how to subdue, resulting in a small shrug on his part.  
The footsteps drew closer, though the lack of echo meant that it was difficult to ascertain how close they were. They held their breath as the two hooded figures made a turn away from them. It was Lotor's turn to assess Pidge and her judgement, questioning her with a glance as to whether they should take the guards out or not. On the one hand, taking them out meant less backup, And their hoods were comparable with that of Galran druids; Pidge did not fancy the idea of testing how close the comparisons were. On the other hand, there was no place to hide the bodies after they had been dealt with, And the risk of the bodies being discovered meant their cover could be blown sooner than anticipated (something she really should have considered before attacking the figure at the entrance, despite that being more of an adrenaline induced attack than anything). She shook her head - it would be better to complete this mission as stealthily as possible, especially owing to the fact that the group were banking on them rescuing their friend. Maybe that's why security was so low?

They progressed quietly through the base, Pidge mentally mapping their route as they went, while Lotor focused on any particular patterns of what minimal patrols there were. As they navigated further in, the members became ever so slightly more dense, implying there was something of note being guarded - that something, Pidge and Lotor could only assume, was Lance. They became harder to hide from, Pidge started fearing that they may have to fight their way out.

In the middle of one of the halls was a single door, which was guarded by two hooded sentries and a hand print identification, meaning it was unlikely Lotor would be able to gain access, but not impossible. Pidge didn't like their chances nonetheless, and these sentries had to go. She gestured to Lotor to follow her lead, sneaking quietly towards the side of them, keeping low to the ground. Hoods, while fashionable and often imbued with magical qualities, usually lacked visibility, which they would use to their advantage. Pidge held her Bayard close as she brought the green weapon down against the back of one of the sentries’ knees, which he promptly fell to, allowing for Pidge to make the strike to the back of his neck - she didn't know if she'd knocked him out or killed him, And frankly she was too far gone to care. The other sentry made to attack, before Lotor came up behind them and drove his sword through their gut, protruding from the front and covered in blood. He removed the sword and the body fell in a crumpled heap to the floor. The smaller of the two wrinkled her nose, but otherwise had no complaints as she lifted the hand of the one she had tended to, clumsily manoeuvring the palm towards the scanner. Lotor simply watched in mild amusement as Pidge fumbled with the body that was bigger and heavier than her. She glared at him, without malice, and slammed the hand down on the reader victoriously. The door slid upwards, permitting the two an entrance that they gladly accepted, stepping into the vicinity.

The room looked something akin to a leading facility chemistry lab that looked like it had been ripped straight out from a high security science compound. Walls were lined with shelves, ornamented with bottles and vials of varying liquids, Petri dishes of powders, tubs of creams and gels. Holograms that substituted computers hovered in front of some of the substances, likely labelling and adding some extra information pertaining to them.  
Oh, and Lance.

Pidge’s breath caught in her throat when she saw what state he was in, And suddenly all the guilt in the world couldn't come close to the feeling that suddenly slapped her in the face. A leather lounger in the middle of the room, with Lance's body draped delicately over the curves, his arms latched to the attachments either side of the chair with mechanical cuffs. There was a mechanism over his eyes, like a pair of Cyclops goggles, their use appearing to hinder Lance's sight rather than aid it. His head had inclined to his side, resting against one of his shoulders at an awkward angle, leaving his neck bare and exposed; his undersuit had been torn also, and his neck appeared to have acquired blistering rashes as a reaction to something the captors had done to him. But all that seemed in some measure meagre in comparison to the elephant of a situation concerning Lance's leg - or lack thereof. Pidge wasn't sure what she would have rather seen over the bear trap, but it certainly wasn't Lance's left leg having been amputated below the knee and sloppily bandaged, clearly bleeding through. His armour had been torn and cracked up to his mid thigh, while the rest of his armour was heavily damaged but otherwise intact. It made Pidge even more remorseful at her own immaculate armour, carefully covering every inch of her skin, including gloves and helmet, both of which Lance had been stripped off; they were discarded a few feet away from where Lance sat, destroyed to only manageable recognition.

In Pidge’s state of shock, Lotor took the moment to stride towards the beaten Paladin. His body seemed to become ridged upon the sound of movement, And his throat hitched with captured breath he seemed to not want to release. Lance remained silent, despite this.

“Pala- I mean, _Pidge_. We need to find a release for these cuffs.”

She snapped out of her trance as she was addressed, and scrambled to kneel beside the seat, eyes peeled for any sort of release catch. 

“N-no…! Don't...don’t touch me…!”

Lance moaned softly, tired and in pain, writhing a little where he sat.

“He must think we're _them_ …” Pidge muttered bitterly as she felt around the arms of the chair.  
Lotor however, eyed Lance with an air of suspicion and definitive curiosity.

“Perhaps.” 

A button lie on the underside of the chair arms, and Pidge pressed it without question. The cuffs split open and released Lance's arms, he made no effort to move.

“Just...l-leave me…”

Lance's words came out in quiet wheezes that crushed Pidge’s heart more than a hydraulic press.

“We're gonna get you outta here, just like I promised, okay?”

“Pidge, please…”

Why? Why was he begging so fervently to remain? She placed a hand on his armoured knee, And he visibly flinched away from her touch, almost toppling from the chair.

_“Don't touch me!”_

She snatched her hand back, eyes glassy with tears she wouldn't let fall until she knew why Lance was being so difficult.

“I'll carry him.” Lotor murmured, disrupting their discourse as he lifted Lance with ease, resting him on his hip with Lance's head resting on Lotor's shoulder, like holding a baby. It gave him a free hand to use his sword if he absolutely had to, but he trusted Pidge to take the lead, confident in her skills. Pidge was out of it as they made their way out, using the same route they had used to get in. They dodged more patrols, this time with the added fact that Lotor had to shush Lance's whining every so often.

* * *

It was unnerving, how easily they escaped. Almost as if they were allowed to escape. They had been permitted to retrieve Lance and leave, and it had everyone on edge as they flew back to the castle in the two lions. When the lions landed on the ship, Hunk was the first to climb out and rush towards Green, desperate to see his friend. Pidge shuffled out first, completely dejected. Any attempt of reaching out to Lance had rendered useless as he refused to let her get anywhere close, clinging to Lotor the entire time. One look at her and Hunk was already worried - terrified, even. Lotor stepped out moments after, now carrying Lance bridal style for convenience. He cut off any concerns from Hunk and Allura with a swift, “He needs a pod, _now_ ,” and they were verbally silenced, though their concerned expressions screamed louder than any words could.

Allura summoned Coran and Shiro to their Altean med bay, and they set Lance down on a table.

“We need to remove this contraption,” Allura started, hands dancing delicately over Lance's form, “as well as his armour.”

Pidge bristled beside Hunk. Lotor and Allura had had Lance's seal of approval, so why hadn't she been allowed near him? Was he mad at her? Hunk stepped forwards, offering to help remove the armour, which only sent Lance into another fit, thrashing on the table go make an effort to move away from Hunk, in spite of not being able to see him. Ah, so not just Pidge, then. The doors slid open, Coran and Shiro making their appearance. Shiro's clothes were damp with sweat, having just come from the training session that Coran promised as the others left. The black Paladin stalked towards them, ready to reprimand them for leaving without him but he stopped when he caught sight of Lance. Or Rather, of Lance's leg stub. A thousand thoughts flew through his mind, caged in his head, repeating memories he would have rather kept repressed. If there was anything he had hoped his comrades would never have to experience, it was the loss of a limb. His anger melted like ice on a summer day, only to be replaced with a heatwave of apprehension.

“What…?”

“They must have been pressed for time and didn't bother with opening the trap - opting instead to remove the entire thing.”

“Allura, h-he can't...without a _leg_ , I-”

Shiro couldn't tear his gaze from Lance’s injury, And for the first time in months, despite the dire circumstances, Shiro was more like himself; he hated feeling so helpless, but this was _Lance_. The heart of the team, and he was going to be torn over the injury, just adding it to the list of things that put him beneath the others. Shiro's self condemnation hit like a torrent of wind, picking him up off of his feet and removing all of his control.

“While he's in the pod, Coran will look into Altean prosthetics. Shiro, you are free to assist him, if it will help you any.”

The large man nodded quickly, wanting nothing more than to find a way to mend Lance, to put him through as little of what he himself went through as possible. Lotor and Allura made quick work of removing the armour, leaving him in his torn undersuit but deciding that would be enough. Shiro moved to take a look at the metal eye mask that wrapped around Lance's head, but once again, Lance was twisting away from the other, protesting quietly, as that was all he had strength for.

“Lance, I need you to calm down. I'm just going to melt through this band, it won't hurt you if you stay still, I promise.”

Lance trembled immensely, but stilled enough for Shiro to work.

“J-Just don't touch…”

Shiro was taken aback by the request, but nodded dutifully.

“I promise.”

With his Galran arm, his fingers found the metal that sat snug by Lance's temple, and sliced straight through it with the heat radiating through his finger pads. The metal then became a little more malleable, allowing them to simply slide the glorified blindfold from Lance's head.

He blinked slowly, before snapping his eyes shut as the intensity of the light.

“Lance, I'm going to help you into a pod now, alright?”

Allura spoke soothingly, gently tucking strands of Lance's hair behind his ear. He nodded weakly, letting her navigate him into a healing pod. His eyes remained closed as the pod shut on him, forcing him into a sleep as it healed his wounds.

She had concerns as to whether they even had prosthetics on the ship, in addition to having to train Lance to walk with a fake leg. On top of the strange patch of red skin on his neck, and his new behaviour towards a select few of them.

“Shiro, you and Coran are to look in to prosthetics for Lance. Pidge, I would like you to research the marks on Lance's neck, perhaps we can figure out what they did to him. Lotor and Hunk, you two are to remain here to watch Lance's pod.”

“What of you, princess?”

“I'm going to check in with Matt, and Keith, and other members of the coalition to see if they've had false distress calls on their radar, also.”

The team nodded, And went their separate ways, each of them restless with a thick sense of trepidation hanging over them Like their own personal doom clouds, raining anxiety over them until their fingers were numb with nerves that refused to detach from each and every one of them.

It was certainly going to be a long set of days, none of them looking forward to facing them. Their only solace is that they wouldn't be facing them alone.  
Not like Lance would be.

But of course, they didn't know that yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)


	4. Part 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Guess hopscotch is out of the question now, huh?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay I want y'all to bear with me because I'm not hugely science savvy and I'm just kinds rolling with what sounds right so I'm sorry if it's not,,, correct,,,

It took days for Lance to recover inside the pod.  
In the mean time, Every one had been busy in their respective jobs, all of which yielding results, though it was too soon to determine whether they were positive or negative. Allura wanted to hold out that they were good, but she wasn't stupid, and she had a sinking feeling in her gut that disagreed with her forced optimism.  
Hunk and Lotor took turns watching Lance. Hunk tried to stay there as often as possible, wanting to be there for when his best friend woke, but Lotor took over during mealtimes and when Hunk needed to sleep. The other paladins took it in turns to bring Lotor food, as he had taken to skipping their gathered meal times so Hunk could be there with them.

The day Lance unceremoniously crumpled from the pod, Hunk had been called by Coran and Shiro, to help design a durable leg with the Altean materials they had found, And Allura was seated with Lotor in the pod room, updating him on all of the information she'd gathered.

“The only members of the coalition that received fake distress calls were the units involving Matt and Keith - they seemed to spar and parry for a while, before leaving without a word.”

“So they were targeting those close to you?”

“It appears so. Pidge managed to figure out what the marks on his neck were, too.”

Allura sat on a seat, leaning forwards with her elbows on her knees as she spoke, assisted with unnecessary hand movements that kept her occupied. Lotor remained standing, having offered his chair to the princess which she had gladly taken. She was working herself to the bone, and it was taking a toll on her energy.

“She said they looked like he had been injected with something, And his body rejected it - I recall her saying it was an allergic reaction? Human immune systems are so fickle…”

“So the rash was the result of the pala- Lance's body, being unable to house whatever they had slipped into his system?”

“Yes, we believe so. I hope he's able to tell us about what happened…”

“We shouldn't interrogate him immediately. I would suggest waiting until he has two feet. He wasn't exactly given a chance to acknowledge his...ailment, before being rushed into the pod.”

“I...yes. I wouldn't want to put more pressure on him.”

Lotor sighed, concern adorning his features.

“Princess, are you not pressured enough yourself? You should go and rest. You've done everything you possibly can.”

“I can't rest knowing Lance is-”

“He is in safe hands with me.”

Lotor bowed, low and respectful, head dipped downwards, “You have my absolute word,” and then he straightened himself, looking Allura in the eye. Her shoulders slumped in defeat as she stood and stretched.

“Alright...but you'll come and fetch me the moment he wakes up?”

“A few moments, I would want to ensure he is in good condition first.”

The Altean princess nodded, and walked slowly out of the room, reluctant to leave her Paladin. Lotor returned to his seat and kept a watchful eye on Lance, noting how peaceful he looked. His face was clear and expressionless, something Lotor disliked seeing on the Paladin; it didn't suit him, not one bit. There was a difference between calm serenity and nothingness, the latter showing on Lance and resulted in him looking almost fake. The only signs of life then, were from the rising and falling of his chest, though even that was slow and steady, as though fighting to move, perhaps even fighting to still. Lance was alive, but at what cost?

The opening of the pods was never a quiet affair; the mechanical locks unlatched first, providing a muted series of _clicks_ , followed by a few moments of silence until a soft _whirring_ started up. The whirring slowly becomes louder until a finalising _click_ , after which the sliding door would open with a _fwoosh._ This helped especially to ensure the door would be heard before opening, so anyone in the immediate area was aware of their need to support whoever was about to fall from the pod. So when the doors started to click, Lotor stood beside the pod, ready to lend himself in aid. A few _clicks and a _swoosh__ later, the aforementioned crumpling of Lance occurred. He was disoriented and unbalanced, wobbling momentarily. Falling in a heap on the floor would have been inevitable if it wasn't for Lotor's intrusion. His hands found Lance's chest and lower back, keeping him upright and supported.

“Lance?”

He mumbled blearily in response, clasping at Lotor's arm to keep his mind grounded as his eyelids fluttered, more seconds passing with them closed than open. His words merged in with eachother, not making an ounce of sense and he groaned, head tipping forwards as if he was unable to keep it supported. Guiding him to a pre-set bed that Coran and Pidge had prepared, Lotor gently set Lance down to lay on it. Coran had set it low enough for Lance to slip on and off of it easily, while Pidge had lined it with blankets to make it comfortable. It seemed to work, as Lance instantly relaxed into the material as soon as he was set upon it.

“‘S soft…”

“Indeed,” Lotor supplied with a small Laugh, “The small one made us all rub three different types against our faces to gauge which was the most appealing.”

“Best way.”

Lance's voice was soft, And low, and Lotor could thank his advanced hearing for being able to decipher what he was saying. If it weren't for how dire the situation was, Lotor might have found it endearing. Maybe.

“How are you feeling?” The Galran tried tentatively, unsure of proper _getting well_ etiquette and when was acceptable to start asking questions.

“Light...hurts m’ eyes. Head pounding.”

Lance slung an arm over his eyes to emphasise his point, protecting himself from the light.

“I could ask Allura about dimming the lights-”

“Mmm, no...it’ll pass. Prolly.”

“Prolly?”

“Probabab- probaba...uh…”

“Probably?”

“Yeah, that.”

“Is that...human slang?”

“Yeah. Lazy talk...tired talk? Som’thin.”

He hummed in understanding, finding that coaxing Lance to speak more was encouraging him to use longer terms of phrase; Lotor could only assume that was a good thing. The man racked his brain for appropriate things to ask, until Lance himself broke the silence.

“Pidge okay…?”

“Hm? Yes, she's doing fine. Ushered into a pod as soon as she returned, despite her protests.”

“Good.”

Nodding in agreement, Lotor debated about fetching the others, ultimately deciding against it.

“Lance...I must ask...your behaviour with the other paladins. What happened?”

Lance didn't respond, And Lotor was worried he had fallen asleep on him, until he took a deep breath and exhaled softly.

“Lab. Did som’thing.”

“I assume you know what?”

Lance nodded, following up with discernible mumbles before falling back into a language more understandable.

“Can't tou-,” he cut himself off with a yawn that closed with a small whine, “Gonna nap...explain later.”

“Nap?”

The notion seemed absurd to Lotor - napping? When you could be productive? What?

“Tired.”

“You've been asleep for days, Lance.”

“Sounds fake.”

“I-I assure you it's not-!”

“Sh. Need to sleep th’ headache off.”

“I- alright. If that'll help, I suppose.”

He was shushed again by Lance, And gave a small, childish huff, crossing his arms. Lance's breathing steadied, evening out, though it occasionally hitched causing Lotor to perk up in concern. It became clear he was asleep, and Lotor contacted the others to let them know Lance was awake - or rather, out of the pod. One by one, they piled in, Allura first and Hunk last (who had delayed his journey with a detour to the kitchen, fetching the cookies for his friend).

“He crashed again?” Pidge asked, pushing her glasses up her nose, “How did he react? To...to his leg…?”

“He was not awake long enough to register. Something about sleeping a headache off?”

Allura winced a little, “Yes, I forget the pods take more of a toll on human bodies. He'll be fine once he's eaten and-”

“Will he, though?”

The group turned to Hunk, who had spoken, and he flinched at the attention.

“N-not to be a Debbie downer but like...I didn't imagine how he was acting, right? That- That's not normal. They - whatever they did to him, it wasn't just a small thing. I'm just worried…”

He shifted uncomfortably, as if someone else had said the words and they made him uneasy to hear - it must have been hard for him to acknowledge his best friend in a state that possibly couldn't be repaired. None of them wanted that to be the case.

* * *

It was another hour before Lance woke up again, groaning as he stirred, arm still slung loosely over his face. The arm came away from his eyes, hanging limp at his side while his eyes slowly opened, taking their time to focus on the ceiling above him. He pushed himself up with a grunt, the action taking a lot more energy from him than it should have, his shoulders giving an unhealthy crack. Finally reaching a sitting position, he rubbed at his eyes, before finally looking up to face the room.

“Hey guys. What's good?”

He went to move his legs, intent on standing, and froze. Lance almost didn't look, scared, as he pieced together his unbalance and lack of weight on one side. A silence swept the room, waiting for him to comment on the subject, no-one wanting to breach any boundaries. They could hear the gears whirring in his head as he looked down at his legs. They heard the way his breathing hitched and became uneven, saw the way his eyes flickered between his legs, frantic and somewhat panicked as his hand ghosted over the stub, but not touching it, as if there was an invisible forcefield around it, preventing his fingers from drawing closer.  
He swallowed thickly.

“Guess hopscotch is out of the question now, huh?”

The cracking of Lance's voice would have been amusing if it weren't the produce of him trying to keep himself together, and not breakdown in front of his team.

“Lance-”

“N-no it's...I…”

“Buddy I know it's hard…”

“R-really I...i-it’s better me than anyone else, right?”

Lance's form trembled, his voice climbing higher and higher to a pitch that clawed at the heartstrings of everyone listening, spiking their bloodstream with a large dose of lament.

“I-it could be worse and...a-and…”

He choked over his words, as if trying to catch them before they fell from his lips, eager to stuff them into a pocket to never be heard again. The pocket tore and the words stumbled free anyways. They fell to the floor, slicking it with an ice he couldn't hope to walk across, resulting in feeble flailing that he was struggling to recover from. Lance looked up to the ceiling as he sniffed quietly, doing everything in his power to not release a cascade of tears. But he was vulnerable and his power had diminished with his physical strength - the tears fell before he had time to stop them, an inevitable force that wouldn't have been stopped regardless of what he tried - a ragnarok of an emotion.

“I can't...I can't fly like this...I-I can't pilot…”

The ice beneath him thinned; he was close, so close to cracking it, close to crashing into an abyss of utter helplessness that was desperate to wrap around Lance's ankles and drag him further to feed on him and his despair.

“Lance, it's going to be okay.”

Shiro stood at the foot of the bed, arms crossed. Lance furiously wiped at his eyes to rid himself of his tears, resulting in a wet face and a puffy, redened complexion.

“We need to take your measurements, we're already working on a prosthetic.”

“L-like yours?”

“Altaen. It'll be more aesthetic.”

He tried to offer a comforting smile, which Lance managed to return for a split second.

“Okay...right I...yeah. Yeah, okay.”

“Now that's sorted, Lance, you need some sugar.”

“You gonna kiss me, Hunk?”

He tried another smile to accompany his joke, before his face contorted into a frown.

“Actually that...don’t...Don’t do that.”

An awkward silence fell across the room, Pidge and Hunk frowning in a growing concern. Lance had always loved physical affection, tiny platonic kisses and cuddles; it reminded him of home, as his family had been close knit and loving, so he did the same as his way of expressing affection. He really only did so to Hunk and Pidge, even a little towards Coran, not wanting to make Keith uncomfortable, or embarass himself in front of his hero, Shiro. He didn't know Lotor that well, and Allura was out of the question- his old crush on her made intimate moments like that far more awkward, And he wouldn't be able to do so without turning into a blubbering mess, even if the crush wasn't as prominent as before.

“That's...alright bud, I meant food, anyway. The uh, cookies?”

“You've still got them? I thought they would have gone by now…”

“Nope! I didn't let anyone touch them - I promised you first!”

“Oh man, thanks...yeah I could go for a cookie.”

Hunk held one out to Lance, who reached out to take it, gingerly trying to find a place to hold it without touching the other, and took a small bite. It was soft, and chewy, with a slight crumble.

“Tastes like cookie-dised ice-cream. Kinda minty? Yeah, it's like baked mint-choc-chip ice-cream.”

“Except if you baked ice-cream, it would melt.”

“Oh yeah…”

Lance shrugged and continued to take small bites, crystalised crumbs falling into his lap. When he looked up again, he shrunk under the group's gazes. They wanted answers, and frankly, Lance wasn't thrilled at the idea of giving them.

“You...wanna know what happened…”

Allura nodded, pity laced onto her smooth features.

“I'm sorry, Lance. It's a bad time, I know but we have to know. I'm sure you underst-”

“I understand, it's okay.”

His tone lost its usual bounce, falling flat, forgoing his iconic flair. He didn't answer for a few minutes, focusing on finishing his cookie, staring intently at the food as though it held the answers to his problems. Lance's breathing wavered once again and the tears threatened to force themselves through, though he managed to suppress these with more success - they created a film of salted water over his eyes instead, adding to his lifeless doll demeanour.

“As if...as if taking my leg wasn't bad enough…”

An inhuman noise emitted from his throat, an amalgamation of a bitter laugh and a mournful sob.

“They...man, it took me a while to figure it out. I was so out of it and I kept passing out. Everything _hurt_. Like, I couldn't see, and I could only _feel_. My leg was throbbing like someone just...constantly going at it with a sledgehammer.”

His fingers delicately traced over his neck, where his rash had been.

“I forgot how to breathe, I think. I don't know if they could hear me screaming I- I couldn't tell if I was actually using my voice or not. Everything was a mess of sounds and feelings and it was _awful_.”

Lance's body twitched as he flinched, as if living the event out in real time.

“Needles, I think. I'm...pretty sure I died. Maybe? For a little, anyway. They were shouting at eachother, and my throat closed up and it burned so _bad,_ and then...nothing.”

“But what did they do?”

“What did they do…? They've put an entire rift between us. They've...they...when I woke up, they talked about some anti-body, and how they weren't supposed to have used it on _me_. It wasn't for me, but something messed up in their calculations and…”

Gripping at the sides of the bed, Lance's knuckles turned white and he trembled like the head of a bobble toy.

“As if taking my leg wasn't bad enough...they turned me into a walking toxin.”

“W-wait what? What does that even mean?”

“A toxin. I'm a toxin.”

Allura frowned, clearly confused, “Lance, I don't understand…”

He looked up at her, brows upturned and eyes filling with every ounce of self-doubt and anxiety that he kept behind an encyclopedia of terrible puns and crack humour.

“A toxin is like, a poison. Some toxins trigger a body to react in certain ways, they're uh, allergic reactions, because your body isn't physically capable of fending off the specific toxins.”

“And...what does that have to do with you…?”

The picture was becoming clear - no-one was happy with how it was developing.

“They've been analysing human biology ever since they found out that the voltron paladins were human. And they...manufactured some sort of artificial toxin that humans are allergic to.”

There was a deafening silence, unpleasant, giving the paladins the opportunity to hear the blood pulsing in their ears, risking a rupture to their arteries. Though maybe they'd rather bleed out than piece together the facts that had been so beautifully laid out for them. The facts that most definitely provided a rift that would take far more than a bridge to cross.

“Except for me.”

Lance continued.

"Because I'm the host."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops


	5. Part 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Just because we don't say it, doesn't mean that you mean any less to us. You're a Paladin of voltron, but before that, You're our friend.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man how about that season 6 amaright
> 
> Also just a note - I do read all of your comments !! I may not reply to them all but y'all never cease to make me smile, so thank you !! And some of you are so mad at me but I have no ideA WHY :)

On the previous update, Lance deduced he couldn't play hopscotch any more.

Oh, and that he was carrying a deadly toxin of which he was the only human immune to, and literally could not fraternise with any of the other human paladins for risk of them dying. Thanks for coming to our ted talk.

The room had been stunned into silence, gaping at Lance who had just dropped the biggest bombshell since - Whenever the last big bombshell was. Not all of us can be nuke experts. But it was big. Big, and bad, and caused an explosion of negativity that pierced every one of them like pieces of shrapnel in their hearts. Unfortunately, none of them would be able to utilise the shrapnel to become iron man. Not all of us can be genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropists, either. Life's a bitch like that.

“That's...even for _Galra_ , that's messed up…”

Lotor glared at Pidge, who had spoken, and come off as somewhat racist.

“Oh, s-sorry, I meant - _empire_ Galra. So...so even for the empire thats…”

“I...understand. But please watch your wording, in future.” Pidge nodded, fully aware of her mistake, and Lotor continued, “Who knows how long they've been planning this...they could have dropped it at the fall of my father, but I assume they're not so supportive of my taking the throne, and having Voltron’s support…”

“No! No, we're not just - we're not just going to breeze past this!”

The yellow Paladin spoke up, concerned and distraught, probably taking the news of Lance's body status the hardest.

“We're not going to go back to the galra, or the calzone thing-”

“...Kral Zera.”

“Not the point! This is about _Lance_!”

His arms flailed as he gestured to the broken man in front of them. The life had been completely sucked from Lance, and he honestly barely even seemed a shell of who he was before. It was evident how hard he was trying to gather the pieces, but that only hurt him more, slicing into his hands as he tried to collect them - and none of them could patch him up.

“We need to get this thing out of him! A-and help him with his leg and -”

“Hunk, please calm down. I think, Lotor has a point,” Allura looked between the two men, “We should find the motive behind it, and then-”

“With all due respect, princess,” the woman's shoulders visibly stiffened as Shiro spoke, voice tight, “I have to agree with Hunk. If this were a ‘judge, jury, and prosecution’ situation, I would be all for the semantics. However, the motive has nothing compared to the repercussions- being, we're a Paladin down, and we _need_ him. We can't form voltron without Lance, so reversing the effects of the toxin should be our first priority.”

Once again, Allura and Shiro were at odds, and the tensions were drowning everyone watching as they struggled to breathe through the discourse.

“But we must ensure that they don't do it ag-”

“No, we need to make sure that No one here dies!”

“Stop it! Stop! For the love of - just shut up!”

Lance screamed out from his seat on the bed, eyes clenched shut as if he was trying to reduce his exposure to the arguing, to the angst in the room. It was difficult, considering he was the source of the angst, but it only sufficed to increase the guilt weighing on his shoulders. As if he didn't have enough to worry about.

“This is their motive! Can't you see!? They're tearing us apart! What kind of team can fight back if - if we're not even a team!?”

His words rang in their ears and forced them to think - Man had a point. Lance could easily kill any of them there and then, nothing could constitute as more of a broken team as one of their members being the cause for another's death.

“Everyone just - Everyone get out!”

Hunk wanted to object, he didn't want to leave his best friend alone, especially at a time like this.

“But Lance-”

“For your sake; we - we don't know how dangerous this thing is. If it's airborne or...of If we can't even touch the same things I,” he looked up to Hunk, a sea if emotion behind his sea of tears, “I don't want to hurt you. So, please?”

He hated having to beg for his friends to leave him alone, but he hated the thought of anyone being hurt on his account even more, so to balance the lesser of two evils, kicking them out seemed the most logical thing to do.

And unfortunately, no-one had an argument for that. So they took their leave, one by one, Coran and Allura opting to stay, however. Lotor had seemed to consider it, but ultimately decided against it as he gave a sympathetic nod towards Lance and swept from the room.

“You guys don't have to -”

“We can't leave you alone, Lance. I feel as though that is the worst thing for You, right now.”

_Yeah, well you also cared more about the politics than the people only seconds ago_ , Lance thought bitterly, before shaking his head and reprimanding himself heavily for thinking like that. It wouldn't do good to start having bad connotations towards the only ones your body would let you be around.

“You know I...I’m just really tired.”

“Well you've barely eaten since you've come out of the pod, so that would make sense!”

“Coran what- what're you doing?”

Lance raised an eyebrow at the man who was bent over his legs with some sort of tape. Possibly a tape measure, but the Altean alternative. He finished doing, whatever he was doing, and laced the tape around his own shoulders like a trendy tailor. Goddamn that gorgeous man.

“I was taking your measurements! For stuff! And...and things!”

Coran started to sweat as though he was under intense interrogation, as he scuttled closer to the exit.

“O...kay…?”

He gave a salute, before leaving the room completely. What a cryptid. A beautiful cryptid.  
That left two, Lance and Allura. Now, closer to the beginning of their adventures, Lance would have been thrilled for some time alone with Allura. He would have killed for it, maybe. No, He wouldn't have, but he definitely pined for it enough. This time, though, he was too tired and too stressed and everything sucked.

“Everything sucks.”

See?

“I'm so sorry Lance, if I could do anything to help-”

“No it's okay. Stuff like this happens, right? I just gotta make do. Other people have it worse, and it could have been...it could have been _Pidge_.”

Lance didn't even want to imagine how much worse that could have been. He'd almost died, and not to be uh, size-ist, but her smaller frame would be far less likely to withstand the same pressure Lance's body was put under, and that was something he didn't want to think about. He could only hope she'd forgive him for pushing her away.

“Lance, I would have rathered it be _neither_ of you, and I can only be glad that you came back to us.”

Lance gave a quiet huff, a part of him thinking it would have been better to not have been rescued at all, and to stay in the strange alien lab forever. The others would be safer, for sure. And it's not as though they had a shortage of paladins - Keith could easily come back to pilot Red.

Lance? He wasn't needed.

“You're important to all of us.”

He was already drowning, drowning with his heavy thoughts tied around his ankle to weigh him down, and he was too low below the water level, that Allura's attempt at offering a ring to swim with was feeble. It floated on the surface, feet above him, and Lance couldn't even reach it with the tips of his fingers.

“Blue misses you.”

That. That wasn't something he expected to hear. He looked up at Allura with shock and awe scrawled across his features, and that's when she figured she was onto something.

“She was- is, is very fond of you, Lance.”

“What? How…how do you know?”

“She tells me. Through her thoughts. I was only able to pilot her so easily because of you - She showed me how you did it, and I followed. It was almost like having you as a co-pilot.”

“You would've been able to do it without my help.”

“Perhaps so, but not as fast. We bonded over you - of how proud we are of you.” 

Lance's mouth was dry - perhaps because he was dehydrated and the last of his fluids were pooling in the corners of his eyes as he swallowed, throat sticking to itself as he whispered, voice hoarse, “I had no idea.”

How could he? No-one ever told him. No-one ever told him how important he was to the team, they didn't validate him. So how, how was he supposed to know? Allura could only smile in what she hoped was a way that conveyed comfort and rest a hand on his knee.

“Just because we don't say it, doesn't mean that you mean any less to us. You're a Paladin of voltron, but before that, You're our friend.”

He could only nod numbly. Months, months of feeling as though he was the seventh wheel, of feeling worthless and underappreciated, and then suddenly everyone is sending him wave after wave of appreciation and he wasn't sure if he could handle it. It was too much for him, and he was confused at how their efforts seemed to be starting to make a dent in his wall of self doubt. The wall he had been constructing for years; was it really about to come down?  
It wasn't as though he didn't want to live behind said wall, but he had had it for so long. When the wall was gone, what would be left of him? Would he even know how to function without it? Maybe he wasn't emotionally ready for the wall to come down. But, he could make a window. A window of opportunity to garner the devotion that he had been denying existed for so long, because he craved it.

Lance craved the tenderness from the others, and it was cruel with how he was only coming to terms with it when He couldn't act on it without risking a life.

* * *

Lance had been left alone after that. Allura offered for the mice to stay, but he declined the offer, deciding he would go back to sleep again while he waited until he felt he would be able to digest food without throwing it back up.  
Whenever he closed his eyes, however, he was back. Back in that room, Back strapped to the chair and not knowing what was going on, listening to screams and shouts and feeling his life slip out from beneath him until he was falling into the clutches of a sleep he wouldn't wake up from.  
The Paladin opened his eyes, and didn't let them stay closed for any longer than blinking duration. Sleep was a total bust, Then. Lame. Now he was tired and hungry and lonely, three of his least favourite things to be. He couldn't even consider getting up to walk around, what was he going to do, start hopping and call himself Peter? Lance groaned at himself. His humour had resorted to Peter Rabbit jokes, and not even good ones. Lance wanted to cry, again, but he was far too dehydrated for his body to accumulate enough liquid to make tears.  
The guy needed a damn drink.

The doors sliding open interrupted his thoughts, and in walked Coran, Allura, and Shiro. Lance immediately tensed. Not only was he worried about the discourse that usually followed Shiro and Allura, but the fact that Shiro was a human had him on edge. Why was he there?

“Uh, hey?”

“Hey, Lance. How're you feeling?”

Lance shrivelled in on himself as Shiro drew closer, visibly uncomfortable, anxious about him being there.

“I'm...fine...Shiro, you shouldn't-”

“I'm just here to make sure you've been healing okay.”

“You don't have to though, I don't want you to get hurt!”

“Lance, I'll be fine.”

Something flashed in Shiro's eyes, something that Lance wasn't sure he liked. As if Shiro was holding on to something that no-one else knew. But what? What would it be that would be relevant to him spending time around poisonous Lance? He decided he was too fatigued to find out if Shiro had intended for his words to cover unknown facts. If it was that important, it would come up again. Maybe.

“Besides, we have a present for you, m’boy.”

Lance sighed and shook his head, “I know you're trying to help, but I'm really not in the-”  
Coran didn't wait for him to protest, before placing a box on his lap. It was about the size of Lance's arm, an off white with a baby pink lid that sat comfortably on the box, sealing it closed, as was the purpose of box lids. Whack. The boy glanced up to Coran, sheepish, and he motioned for him to open it as he waited with baited breath. Allura appeared just as enthused, though Lance could tell it was somewhat tainted with nerves, which only made him nervous and oh Lord what was in this box?

He slowly shimmied the lid from the box, holding his breath as he did so. The box had been lined with silk - or an alien equivalent, in a pale, minty green. Set atop of the silk, caused Lance's breath to catch in his throat.

A leg.

A sleek, prosthetic leg that was brimming with Altean aesthetic. Lance's hand hovered over it, as if scared that it'll break if he touched it with how delicate it looked.  
It was a chromed white, which made it bright and blinding, almost glowing with how the colours melded together. The leg seemed to be split into six parts, for easy assembly which slotted together nicely to build up the structure. The foot itself took three parts - the base of the foot and the heel were one part, cutting off at the Achilles which was exposed to reveal what Lance assumed was some form of rubber for flexibility, which happened to wrap around where the ankle was. The top of the foot sit above that, giving the illusion of framing metatarsals with the angle it had been Set, and the toes remained their own entity, connected to the foot with the same material that was exposed at the Achilles. The rest of the leg consisted of the remaining three parts, one leading from the Achilles tendon (or where it would be on a normal leg) and enveloping the calf muscle up the back of the leg, the front half of the leg extending from the ankles to the same height. Both parts capped off with a thick band that seemed to be where the leg itself would be attached.  
The lines that travelled between where all the parts were connected implied a structure on the inside being utilised to keep it all together, and was a light teal.

Lance finally released a breath and gingerly took the object from its box, pleasantly surprised with how light it felt. The material itself felt like carbon fibre, with the weight of an aluminium bar. He wasn't sure how accurate his material guesses were, as they were in space and he didn't know if they had the same or different ones, let alone the fact his composite knowledge wasn't exactly the greatest. Lance turned the leg in his hands, lips parted in awe. It was definitely built with dexterity in mind, as opposed to Shiro’s arm which definitely gave off a weaponised aura.

He couldn't have been out of commission for more than a day or so, and the team, _his_ team, had already plowed through his expectations and worked to make him something that would enable him to return to his normal status. Lance couldn't be more dumbfounded- or more proud.

“You guys...man you really outdid yourselves…”

He couldn't cry, but his throat was sporting a lump he couldn't swallow as he breathed shakily.

“This is...it’s beautiful. I…”

Allura breathed a sigh of relief before launching into explanation; “I've imbued it with some quintessence - when it's attached to you, these parts here,” she ran a finger over the showing teal, “they'll give a soft glow, and that means it's functioning. The glowing means it's attached to your life force, and will thrive as you do.”

Ergo, Lance's living energy was what would power the leg and keep it responsive. Coran then went in to the explanation of how the leg would attach - The band at the top of the leg detached from the rest of it, and said band would remain permanently attached to Lance. The fusion was still up for debate, as they were unsure whether Allura could do it with her abilities, or if Coran would have to do it surgically. The rest of the leg would then be attached or removed whenever seen fit, primarily for cleaning purposes. 

“Thank you guys. So much. I don't even...I…”

He gently put the leg back in the box, not wanting to break it. Lance knew he obviously wouldn't break it, but it looked so pretty and he didn't want to do _anything_ to it.

“I know how hard it is to get accustomed to a prosthetic, so I offered to help you through it.”

“Shiro…? But what about-”

Shiro silenced him with a _one moment_ gesture, and slowly reached forwards towards the box, pinching at the silk and folding it a little. Beneath the silk, were a pair of gloves. They looked to reach halfway up his upper arms, in a slim fit.

“It's not ideal, but it's a temporary solution. We're all going to have a pair each, too. I think so long as we're careful, everything should be fine.”

Lance wanted to disagree. They didn't know how dangerous the virus was, how it spread, how it was received. But he couldn't bring himself to be more of a pessimist when his team were trying so hard to accommodate for him.

“I can't thank you enough.”

“You can thank us by coming back to the team.”

“Yeah. Yeah you're right. I'll be back on my feet, in no time. Promise!”

He didn't feel positive about this, but what could he do? Lance had a habit of following the _fake it ‘till you make it_ frame of mind, and if that wasn't true for this situation, he didn't know what was. Things were moving up, of course, but how long would it be before all that progress was demolished and he was knocked right back?

Ah, well. That wasn't important for now, probably. Lance was happy in this moment. Happy so long as he didn't stop to reflect. Happiness found in a moment was fleeting, but Lance would hold on to it until it fading from existence, and him with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm gonna draw the darn leg at some point because that was a bitch to explain and I'm still not sure if it's clear but I have a very distinct picture in mind and I just wanted everyone to know T^T
> 
> In regards to season six - ((this part will likely talk about spoilers so if you haven't seen it then stop reading :) )) I'll involve some parts and maybe prolong others ?? I don't wanna go too in depth because I want everything to kinda be a surprise if I do include it, to decide to twist a few things (I'm having a lot of ideas involving kuro !!) And I'm debating about completely redacting the whole lotor sitch, or just pushing it out a bit ,,, idkidk feel free to suggest stuff !!!


	6. Part 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It's not fair,” Lance whispered, almost going unheard by Shiro, “I'm a good person, I- what did I do wrong?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you mean it's been weeks since I updated what-  
> After season 7 I was, left underwhelmed and empty so my drive to write came back and here's angst hello.
> 
> Without spoilers, the end half of season 7 was a little disappointing?? Like, it kind of cut off points and dragged on for others and the pacing just seemed a bit,,, off?? Idk maybe I'm still shook over S6 I don't think anything could top the emotional turmoil that shit put me through:):):) we'll just have to see what S8 holds !!
> 
> This chapter is a little more to the Shance side, because God I'm w eak for Shance, but I promise there's no affirmation towards what ship will be endgame here because I still haven't decided. Curse my multishipper ass.  
> Remember suggestions are totally welcome because I'm winging this! if you wanna see certain characters interact then let me know, or if you wanna suggest a plot device then hmu!! I can't guarantee anything but I'll definitely hear y'all out!!

It took two days for the leg to be attached. They had decided between a mix of both Coran and Allura’s abilities, wanting the leg to he as fused to Lance as physically possible. True to Allura's word, the mating parts of each segment of the leg glowed a warm, gentle teal. Lance was informed that the light would dim should he be unconscious or close to death.

“So it'll be a lower light level if I'm like, asleep?” Lance spoke as he peered down at the leg, rotating the ankle with a raised eyebrow. It was all, so strange. He couldn't feel the foot, yet he could feel the energy running through to the toes like a bloodstream of quintessence. It didn't make sense to him, but he chose not to look a gift horse in the mouth; it was his gift, and he was going to appreciate it with everything he had.

“In theory.”

“What if I'm dreaming? Then my subconscious is active.”

“I'm...not sure. We hadn't exactly had a chance to test it.”

Lance had been changed into his his jeans, rolled up to his knees, and his usual shirt with the gloves snug underneath. The jacket that was signature to his look was discarded beside him as he sat on his bed in the infirmary, legs swinging over the side. The weight on his new leg was strange and unfamiliar, he wasn't looking forward to the inevitable disorientation that it would cause.

“And you're sure that the gloves will keep everyone safe?” Lance eyed up his hands skeptically, glancing up to Shiro, who adorned a matching pair.

“Lance, it's going to be okay.”

It was not going to be okay, Lance wanted to snap back, what part of anything that was happening was okay? He honestly just wanted to curl up and sleep but, Allura and Shiro definitely would not let him. He wasn't mad at them, of course not, Lance couldn't even begin to describe how grateful he was for everything his teammates were doing for him, but he was frustrated at the situation, mad that out of all the realities he personally had to experience, it had to be _this_ one. Lance had to keep bringing himself in line so he wouldn't take out his pending annoyance unto the others; they didn't deserve it, but with every passing moment it was getting more difficult to keep his mouth shut.

“I know how hard using a prosthetic can be,” Shiro started, setting a gloved hand on Lance's clothed shoulder, which caused the boy to flinch and recoil regardless of the protection, “But you have to own it. It's part of you now, and it will work hard to help you.”

As stupid as Lance thought Shiro's whole spiel was (of course it had to work to help him, it wasn't as though the leg was some sentient entity that could decline it's purpose), he did appreciate the sentiment behind his words. The words that were intent on comforting him. Besides, Lance had to give Shiro at least, some credit; he had gone through this himself. It was pretty cool that Lance had another thing that made him more like his hero, even if it wasn't the most ideal trait. Maybe he should have dyed his hair white instead.

“Yeah, Okay, thanks. Let's get this show on the road,” Every part of of Lance was screaming to not, do that, to cancel the show and remove it from production completely, but he was already pushing off from the bed until he felt his feet land flat on the floor. Okay awesome job Lance, give step one(1) a big check off the list. He was standing, for the first time in days, despite how his hands gripped at the sheets behind him as if they personally were helping to keep him supported.

“O-okay. Okay. Standing. Standing is good. Now what?”

“Walking?”

“I- Yeah of course! Of- of course. I can do that.”

Of course you can, sweetie. Lance took a deep, shaking breath before making sure he was standing straight, and lifting his mech foot off of the ground to take a step forwards. So far, so good. Until he took said step however, wincing as he neglected to compensate for the weight and ended up slamming his foot down on the floor with a loud *clang* which vibrated up his thigh. Ouch. Well he knew for next time at least, baby steps. Very little baby steps, apparently.  
The next foot to lift off was the flesh and blood one, easy in theory, but left him balancing precariously on his new leg - he felt a bit like a flamingo, sans the grace. Stepping down was much like stumbling, with the altean device dragging behind him, and he continued to stumble until Allura caught him in her arms with an expression of concern.

“Perhaps more assisted practice is necessary?”

Lance flashed a shaky grin up at her, visibly humiliated by his struggle - which happened in front of his hero and ex-crush, that was hardly fair (says the writer who planned it), and instead tried to act flippant with a flirtatious comment, an attempt to imitate normalcy, “If It means more chances for you to hold me, princess, then sign me up!”

Allura usually would not have stood for that, but with Lance's condition, humouring him would be the kind act. But she couldn't quite bring herself to do that either, instead simply rolling her eyes with a tut, and helping Lance to stand up straight again.

“Try walking to Shiro."

Shiro uncrossed his arms and held them out like one would a baby when encouraging them to walk towards you. Except Lance was far older than a baby, and that was rather emasculating. Still, they were just trying to help, even if it was driving Lance insane. Just because he was rendered a little invalid, didn't make him an invalid. Deep breaths honey, it'll be okay. Probably.

Lance started taking steps again, holding his arms out to try and balance himself like a tightrope walker would, his knees trembled and threatened to give out on him. Lance was getting increasingly more frustrated as he glared down at his feet like they were making him struggle on purpose. Stop cucking him from walking, feet. Every few seconds, Shiro made a move as though to come forwards and assist him, quickly shot down by Lance himself, who would wave him off with a sharp, _I can do it!_  
It certainly didn't help that he hadn't been able to eat all that much since his return, so his body wasn't even efficiently able to sustain him in his walking endeavours. Everything collectively weighing Lance down was enough to make him want to scream, and cry, and yell to the galaxy about how unfair this was. He was so distracted by his thoughts that he didn't catch himself as his knee fell out from underneath him, and he crumpled downwards into a heap, Shiro managing to swoop in and catch him before his knees crashed against the hard floor.  
Lance had only been a few steps away from him.  
“Do you want to sit down…?”

“No, no I can try again-"

“Lance, come on, you should take a-"

“No! Shiro I can do it-!”

“Lance, sit with Shiro. I'll go and get you something to eat, and then we can try again, how does that sound?”

Lance looked over to Allura from beneath the strands of his messy, unkempt hair, wanting to object. He wanted to carry on. Lance couldn't remain useless forever, he couldn't bare to remain useless for a single more day, but he was exhausted. Exhausted, with bags under his eyes that made him look older than the late teen he was. Eventually, he sighed, and gave a small, barely there nod, which she returned with a smile and swept from the room. Meanwhile, Shiro remained as a support and lead him to a chair, almost having to force Lance into sitting. Lance himself remained emotionless as he stared ahead, desperate to try and push all of his negativity down. It was okay. This was okay. Everything was okay.

“Lance?” Shiro murmured, tentative as he sat down in a chair and dragged it across the floor to sit closer, the noise of the chair leg scratching floor causing him to outwardly wince.

Lance shook his head _no_. No, please don't talk to him. No, please don't make him look away from the one, uninteresting spot on the floor. No, please don't notice how he had to bite down on his bottom lip to hide the way it trembled, the way he dipped his head to hide his face from Shiro, his leader and his hero.

“Lance, please-"

Shiro paused as he saw Lance's knuckles whiten, grabbing at his own knees, shaking like a leaf in a wind of lament that showed no signs of relenting. Lance was due for a storm and it was only a matter of whether he had the correct mental state to be able to deal with it. Currently, his foundations were crumbling and there was no foreseeable way he would be able to withstand the impending despair.

“It's not fair,” Lance whispered, almost going unheard by Shiro, “I'm a good person, I- what did I do wrong?”

His voice, broken into shards that tore at Shiro's heart, was cracking every time he attempted to speak above a whisper.

“I'm a good person- I studied hard and I, I helped my ma with housework and I went to all of my niece’s ballet recitals and I would always spend the evenings picking up rubbish from the beach so it wouldn't hurt the sea life and- and I-"

Words, were fickle. Sometimes you couldn't find the right ones. And sometimes the right ones couldn't find you. But did that all really matter when you struggled to speak any at all? When you struggled to breathe through a veil of complete and utter helplessness that snaked around your throat and tightened every time you exhaled? Lance spoke faster than his mind could come up with, or maybe his mind was running too fast for his rapid talking to even keep up, but in the end, both his mind and mouth refused to cooperate, and he was left a quivering, wordless mess, voice unable to squeeze through the lump in his throat.

Shiro shifted his chair closer, reaching out for Lance before his fingers curled back into a fist and he pulled his hand back. He knew what it was like to feel so utterly alone even when you weren't, because it seemed the whole universe was working against you to make your life a living hell. He knew damn well what it was like to wonder what you must have done so, so wrong to deserve such a fate. He had lived it, Shiro had lived through it and gone through the motions and there he was, watching his comrade go through the same hell that he would never have wished onto anyone. Shiro wasn't one to be overly affectionate either but, even he could see that Lance needed a hug. God, did Lance need a hug, a big, enveloping hug that would fill him with a warmth that had been stolen from his veins, that would tell Lance everything he wanted to say but couldn't put into words. Lance needed the contact, the comfort, but it was the one thing that Shiro couldn't provide, without risking his own life, without making the situation worse.  
So, he had to starve Lance of the comfort, the touch, the wordless reassurance.  
So Lance had to sit, and cry, and yell about how it wasn't fair.  
And Shiro had to sit, keep his distance, all while words escaped him.

* * *

Lance honestly amazed Shiro.

The boy had been holding it together as well as one could expect after all of the events that had happened, and his emotional break down had Shiro at a loss, unaware of what he could do to make it better, or at least somewhat easier.  
But as Lance's shoulders stopped shaking, he sniffed pathetically and lifted the hem of his shirt to use it to dab at the wetness on his face, collecting the moisture and drying his cheeks and around his eyes, which greatly reduced the redness that would have built there had he rubbed at them. Lance's eyes were puffy but, easily mistaken for total depletion of energy.  
By the time the rest of the group came in, carrying plates in their arms, deciding to bring dinner to Lance if he couldn't go to them, Lance was smiling brightly, chin held high and though his shoulders slumped and his eyes were dim, the smile was so bright and blinding that the others could barely see passed it.

But Shiro saw, he saw how easily the transformation came to Lance, how easily he went from tears to grinning within a moment; he could have missed it if he blinked. And for that, Shiro was amazed by Lance, and he made sure to keep an eye on him during their eating. Lance struggled to eat with the gloves on but he was trying, and he jumped into the conversation whenever he could. When he wasn't the centre of attention however, Shiro saw how he pushed his food around his plate, and saw how it took longer for him to chew, as if he had to physically force himself to clench his jaw and then let it go slack. His eyes flickered around the group to see if they noticed too, but they all seemed nonethewiser. It made Shiro think- if Lance was this good at hiding himself from the team, how long had he been doing it? How long had Lance had to use this routine to keep his friends’ worry at bay? How long had Lance needed them before the incident, that they could have helped with?

Lance looked up, watching his friends talk and converse, Lotor complimenting Hunk’s cooking and asking about the ingredients, the remaining Alteans and Pidge in a heated discussion about which races measuring system was better to use, and Shiro- ah. Shiro was looking directly at him, which shocked him for a moment though he kept his composure. Their leader was looking up at him, curious and intense, as if he was trying to desperately skim read the contents page of a book to find something specific. Lance raised an eyebrow in Shiro's direction, offering an amused smile that resulted in slight quirking of one side of his lips. The other blinked, seeming to only just register that he had been caught, but instead of being bashful and looking away, he leaned in closer instead.

“Do you want me to help you walk to your room after dinner?”

Lance's eyes widened a little as he blinked over at him, not expecting the offer.

“You'd do that for me?”

“What? Of course I would. Why would you even question that?”

“I-" Lance paused, hesitating. What should he even say to that? Because he had been pushed aside for so long he didn't expect much from them anymore? No, that was a bitter thought. This was a space war, of course he couldn't expect to be the top of everyone's minds. Because Shiro had already shouted at him and made him feel like a burden? Again, not fair, tensions were high. He took a breath, before giving a shaky smile, “No, it's nothing. I'd- I'd like that. Thanks.”

Shiro seemed to relax at that, why had he seemed so tense? Lance slowed with his eating substantially, waiting for everyone else to up and leave with their plates until it remained just him and Shiro. Without wanting to admit it, he hadn't wanted the others to see him fail catastrophically.

“...What happened there?”

“Huh?”

“At dinner. You- you changed. What happened?”

Lance's hand had been holding a forkful of food towards his mouth, which halted en route. Glancing to Shiro, he set the fork down and put his plate on the floor beside his seat, his lacking appetite catching up with him.

“I don't know what you're-"

“Lance, please.”

“...I didn't want to worry anyone. It's not- I mean, sure it's a big deal but it's _my_ big deal. I'm a big boy Shiro, I can handle it.”

“You can't mean that,” that was, incredibly stupid to Shiro. How were they supposed to help Lance if they couldn't see him struggling in the first place?

“I do. Look there's, bigger issues than just me. We're in _space_ , and there's a whole universe of issues that I don't even amount to, what with all of this alien diplomacy and trying to stop races from destroying eachother on an almost daily basis. They shouldn't have to worry about me, too.”

Words, huh? Running away when you need them most. Shiro was at a loss, what was he supposed to say to that?

“Lance-"

“Can we just,” the other started to get to his feet, “do this? I miss my bed, I miss my room. I hate the smell of this stupid altean nurse office hospital thing.”

Shiro nodded and stood beside him, then in front of him, holding his arms out, “Yeah, okay. Think you can hold my hands?”

Lance squinted, scrutinizing the man in front of him.

“Are you sure that's a good idea?”

“We're both gloved, Lance. And it's just our hands. You should focus on being able to move one leg after another without having to worry about balance too.”

Lance really was being thrown right back to baby steps. Great. He grimaced a little at the thought but ultimately couldn't find a better argument against Shiro, aside from his own anxieties, so against his better judgement, he timidly slipped his hands into Shiro's own.

“Okay. Steady? I'm going to walk backwards, so you'll have to direct me.”

And together, they walked. Awkwardly. Shiro held Lance up as his knees trembled with the exertion of taking even the smallest steps, but Lance was refusing to give up, Shiro's hands clutched in his own in a vice-like grip that had his entire upper body tense. One step, two step, “Left here- no, _my_ Left!”, half an hour had him a good few halls away from the alien infirmary, “Now a right- no, oh my god _your_ right, I already- Yeah okay down here,” and eventually outside Lance's room.

“We're here. We're actually- I actually- I did it!”

Lance grinned up at Shiro, almost entirely disbelieving of his journey back to his room. He really did do it. Way to go, give that boy a star. And Shiro smiled back at him, elated that he had been able to give Lance what the universe had neglected to have given himself when he was experiencing hell.  
Someone to help him cope.

“Think you can walk in on your own?”

“I, can try?”

That's the spirit. Lance let go of Shiro to activate his door, holding his arms out a little in front of him for balance as he attempted the few steps to his bed. He stumbled a little about halfway there, causing Shiro to lurch forwards, but he used the stumble as momentum to let himself fall onto his comfy space mattress, turning to lay on his side with a wry expression.

“Not...quite there yet.”

Shiro offered what he hoped to be a comforting smile as he hovered in Lance's doorway, “You'll get there.”

“Yeah. Yeah I'm sure I will. Thanks, Shiro.”

“Goodnight, Lance.”

“Night.”

Shiro removed himself from Lance's room and let the doors shut, staying outside for a few more moments before returning to his own quarters. The day had been rough on their red Paladin, and the storm was showing no mercy, no intention of letting Lance go from its typhoon of anguish. But Shiro felt he had done what he could, with what he could, still dissatisfied with how well Lance seemed to disguise his feelings.  
The storm may have been coming, or in full swing, but they would never know, not unless Lance told them, learned to share.  
But with him feeling even more isolated, there were no promises that Lance would reach out for them. That scared Shiro.  
Lance, scared Shiro.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've said it once and I'll say it again, god I'm weak for Shance. I mean this chapter isn't technically a plot for romance, it's literally just Shiro's(?) guilt about like, lance having to deal with what he had to. Slowburn yo. Also slowburn to leave room for other ships because I can't dECIDE.  
> Also I do want to make a point that I'm fussing over ships here because I do want a romantic endgame purely because of the angst that would ensue from that considering Lance can't,,, touch anyone,,, also with the amount of shit I'm putting him through, baby boy needs a light at the end of the tunnel.
> 
> FRICK thanks y'all for reading and putting up with my inconsistent writing style and all that. And if any of you actually read my rambling cluster of notes then you're a real lad and ilusm. Aight cool I'm out-

**Author's Note:**

> If anyone wants to contact me, aside from the comments here, I have a tumblr and Instagram under @ridealion ,,, I post my art and shizzle there so *insert shameless false advertising here!*


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